


Dreams Are For the Living Affair

by 26foxbuck221



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:08:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4958143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/26foxbuck221/pseuds/26foxbuck221
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team discover that not all things ended with the fall of Nazi Germany.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

# Dreams Are For The Living Affair

  
  


This is my first venture into the realm of Man From U.N.C.L.E fan fiction. I saw the movie twice and can only hope I am doing them justice. In the original TV series, Illya had the trust of the gypsies so I am continuing that on into the movie-verse. Comments and reviews welcome. As always I own nothing remotely related to The Man From U.N.C.L.E neither TV series nor movie. No money being made on my part at all. Just borrowing the characters for enjoyment and fun.

                                                 IKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIK

He slowly came to himself to find three pairs of eyes staring at him rather intently. He could read the wariness but he also saw concern and curiosity as well.

  
  


“You alright, Peril?”

  
  


“Am fine”. But his focus was drawn to the north beyond the shores of the Black Sea. He felt himself starting to stand.

 

“Mr. Kuryakin?” The Englishman's voice was soft but held a steel edge

 

Gaby had yet to say anything but her eyes never left him. The Russian knew Waverly wanted answers but Illya's mind was floundering. He had experienced this before but never at this level of intensity and he was feeling torn. All his training from the time he was placed in the orphanage until now told him that such things were not possible. That it was all vulgar peasant superstition and fairytale. But he had spent enough time in his youth among the Ruska Roma* to know that some things were not so impossible. English words seemed so inadequate at this moment and Gaby's Russian was poor at best. How does one explain the powers of the gypsy in the first place?

 

Illya looked at the Englishman his gaze unwavering. “You want an explanation. That, I cannot give.”

  
  


“Cannot or will not.” Waverly shot back.

  
  


“Cannot. I....not have words” Illya's voice lowered to a growl. “Help or not help. I must go north. Go where you will. Not hard to find.” He cut a telling glance in Solo's direction. But before the agent could engender a proper comeback Mr. Waverly's voice cut across him.

  
  


“Mr. Kuryakin, how can we make any kind of decision? We need more information.”

  
  


“Da!** This, I know! But you will think me liar.” He blew a gusty sigh.”Or worse, maybe.”

  
  


“Illya, please. Something happened just now and you do seem to have some idea as to what caused it. Just help us to try to understand what it is that you are feeling? Why is it so important that you go back across the Sea?

  
  


Gaby found herself the center of attention but some of the tension seemed to have broken. Waverly gave her a slight nod of approval and Illya let go a deep exhale, his head giving a dip of capitulation.

  
  


“Very well. I will attempt this. But if you do not believe me, do not say I did not warn you.”

  
  


rusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrusrus

  
  


*Ruska Roma= Russian Romani or gypsy

**Da=Yes in Russian

 

  
  


 

  
  


 

  
  


 

  
  


 

  
  



	2. Chapter ll

Once again, no money is being made on this. I own nothing pertaining to Man From U.N.C.L.E in any form. They are only being borrowed.

Chapter ll

 

Vadoma stood to stretch her back and to check on her little helper. The child, Dooriya, was an inquisitive little poppet and often would get sidetracked from her chore of helping to weed the herb garden. Vadoma didn't mind that much, Dooriya was only six years of age. It was good to let her mind grow, her horizon broaden to more then worrying about weeds and such.

 

Right now the girl was hunkered down head bent almost to the ground, hands resting on her knees. Something had her full attention. Most likely an insect of some sort. Suddenly Vadoma's world shifted to an earlier time. Much the same scenario, but this time the child was a boy. Tow headed and blue eyed. He too had had a unfathomable inquisitive mind. He questioned her about everything around them. The plants, why did they grow better in some spots and not so well in others? What made some toxic to eat while others, looking much the same, were safe to eat and how did one tell the difference? How did one tell a star from a planet? What were clouds like and why were some benign while others foretold stormy weather? Why did animals seem to know when a storm was coming, or whom to trust or when to run away?

 

It was true, the boy was not Roma by blood, at least the family lay no claim to such, but their dacha* had been close by and the Kuryakins had made it clear that the Roma were welcome to camp or to use the land for planting or grazing of their live stock. Nicolai Kuryakin had been a good man, a good drug**, a friend, to the Roma and so hadn't his wife, Natalia. She provided medicines and foods that the Roma could not provide for themselves and they had allowed their children to run wild with not just the Roma, but horrors of horrors, the Cossacks as well. Vadoma had to laugh. The boy bridged more gaps then most grown men could even be bothered with. And young Illya Kuryakin had been well loved by all.

 

She found herself hugged around the knees and she looked down into a bright eyed, apple cheeked little girl.

 

“You laughing, Tetya***. What makes you laugh? I like it when you laugh.”

 

She reached down to stroke the child's hair. A lovely chestnut that enhanced the color of her hazel eyes that ran to green.

 

“I am thinking about a little boy, very much like you. It's made me happy to remember him.”

 

“What little boy?”

 

“No one you know, Dooriya. It was some years ago. He wouldn't be a little boy now. But you reminded me of him just now. You are full of questions and love to learn as he did too.”

 

“Where is this little boy now, Tetya?”

 

Vadoma lifted her head with a wistful smile then she found herself looking towards the south and she had to wonder.

 

“I don't know, Dooriya, It has been many years since I have seen him. But tell me, what did you find that held your interest so intently.

 

“Come see. I think it is a dead bug, it is all dried up looking.”

 

“You did not touch it, did you?”

 

The child shook her head so vigorously that her braids fairly whipped about her head.

 

“Nah uh, nyet. You told me never to touch anything that I did not know what it was or looked dead.”

 

“Good girl. Alright, show me.”

 

The little girl skipped away and Vadoma followed scooching down when the child dropped to her knees and pointed. Vadoma's brow furrowed into a slight frown. This was nothing the likes she had ever seen except on the elderly when plagued by a skin disease. There was a patchy bit of hair and the edges looked dry and scaly. She hunted around her until she found a sturdy stalk of dried straw and used it to flip the thing over. It was no bug, there was nothing to suggest legs of any sort or even a body. But there was no hint of blood or tissue. Indicating that how ever it was lost, it was not in a fight with another animal. She searched the ground around them, but there was no sign of a struggle. The ground was not torn or scuffed up in anyway. Surely if there had been animals fighting, the screeches and growling would have been heard so close to camp. Nyet, it looked like it might have just sloughed off. She slowly stood. This was not anything natural and it gave her a distinctly uneasy feeling.

 

“We will give it a proper burial.”

 

She retrieved her gardening trowel, dug a deep hole and pushed the scrap of skin and hair into it and covered it up. Dooriya stood reverently hands clasped and together they said a blessing over the little mound.

 

The tugging on her blouse brought her back to the present and she had to chuckle. “What do you want now?”

 

“Can we go into the forest? Surely there are some wood flowers coming up now. Can we.....please?”

 

Vadoma's eyes cut to the wood line some 2 hundred yards to the West. There was a time when she would not have not hesitated. Some of the best mushrooms grew not far into the undergrowth, but for sometime her forays into the forest had become less and less. It seemed wrong somehow like something dark had taken up residence. The feeling was oppressive and she didn't like it.

 

“Not today, Doori. Let us return. I am sure your mother will soon be looking for you and I don't want her to worry.”

 

“You are silly, Tetya. Mama never worries when I am with you.”

 

But the child was already tugging on her hand in the direction of the camp and Vadoma found herself glad of it.

 

Later that night after the camp had settled into sleepiness, Vadoma found herself sleepless and little Doori's innocent question looping through her mind. “ _Where is this little boy now, Tetya?”_ It was true that Vadoma had worried enough about this little boy that she had tried to keep tabs on him over the years. Just small contacting spells. Just to reach out and gently nudge. But she had not done it in awhile. But something told her that he survived and that was a great accomplishment in a time when so many children had not. Hitler had spared no one in his bid to exterminate all those he deemed inferior and unworthy of life. Khrushchev had been little better to the Roma, if at all. She drifted off to sleep in dreams of a blond blue-eyed child running free but something dark and shadowy lurked just beyond the peripheral.

 

Mfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfu

 

“Don't wander to close to the forest, Doori. The sun is getting on and it will soon be suppertime.”

 

“Tetya.......”

 

Something in the child's voice brought her to alert. Doori was backing towards her, one little arm pointing towards the woods. A figure was lumbering slowly towards them ungainly, clumsily.

 

“Come to me, now Doori.”

 

The little girl spun and was in her arms in a twinkling, Vadoma spun in turn and began to hurry towards the encampment a howling scream lending wings to her feet as she rushed among the wagons. Bringing men and women to their feet.

 

“Bear, I think.”

 

Several men grabbed up rifles and moved past her. Vadoma handed Doori off to her mother as others ushered their own into their vans. Windows would be shuttered and locked as would doors until the men returned. But the sun sat and still the men did not come. Women moved just beyond the vans and built up fires, not only to ward off wild animals but also to guide their men home through the dark and still they did not come. It was almost full daylight before a few made their way into the circle of vans. The women giving worried and concerned looks. The men shook their heads.

 

Milosh stepped forward. “We followed it back into the forest. We kept track of each other but as the sun sat we knew we had to get out as so I called the others in but Luka did not answer. So we went in search. We heard nothing, found nothing. Then Pali went missing. Then Peti. We decided to start fires in hopes that they would see it. Once it got light we tried again.....but nothing. It is as if they had never been.”

 

Vadoma knew that they would not give up. After some food and rest the search would commence. She made her way to her own van and sat. A deep desire came over her and she reached for a white candle, sandalwood, both oil and incense, a small glass of water and some salt. From an leather wallet she pulled an old photo. Slightly damaged with time but it still showed a boy child half turned away from the camera but looking back over his shoulder. Not looking into the lens but to the person behind it.

 

“I don't know why Illyusha, but it seems important that I do this.”

 

She anointed the candle with the oil then lit it. Then did the same with the incense, placing the photo near by. Then she took an amount of salt, and holding her hand over the glass, she let the grains slowly spill into the water.

 

“Dear friend, I am in need.”

 

Then she put the glass with the incense and candle.”

 

“Get in touch with me, if you can.”

 

 


	3. Chapter lll

Chapter lll

 

I want to thank all of you who are reading this ramble. To anteffy1, susanpr and LovesLit thank you so much for your interest. It makes this effort so worthwhile.

 

I did notice that I neglected to add footnotes to Chapter ll so I will add them here.

*Dacha: A country house or cottage

**Drug:Friend- pronounced droog.

***Tetya: Aunt

 

As always I own nothing of Man From U.N.C.L.E, movie or TV series. Just having fun with this whole thing. Not for profit.

 

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

 

Silence reined on the rooftop for what seemed to be an eternity for the Russian. His sat stiff and straight, lips pressed just waiting for someone to make some kind, any kind of cutting remark. His eyes never leaving the man setting across from him. Solo shifted and cleared his throat then lapsed into silence. Gaby leaned against the low, sun baked wall, arms crossed over her chest, chin dipped, lips also pursed. Waverly slowly sat forward, hands clasped, fingers enter twined and resting on the table.

 

“Do you have any idea how long you were., shall we say, oblivious?”

 

Illya took a small inhale, then slowly shook his head.

 

“Two minutes. And you say that a white candle, some incense, water, salt and a portrait is able to accomplish this effect on people?”

 

“It is as Vadoma described it to me.”

 

Solo's head cocked slightly to one side. “Vadoma?”

 

“She is a drabardi.....she grows herbs, tends the sick....”

 

“And performs magic”

 

“It is called it fortunetelling, but only for the gadje, non-Roma. Never among themselves, except in times of great need.”

 

Waverly kept eye contact with Illya but he asked a question to them all.

 

“As any one here ever heard of a Dr. Robert A. McConnell?”

 

Blue eyes narrowed slightly but his body and face showed no other reaction. Gaby's head lifted slightly eyes moving first to the Russian then to the Englishman.

 

“And just what kind of doctor was Robert A.McConnelly?”

 

Waverly's lips twitched ever so slightly as Solo put voice to the question and Illya's eyes did a roll.

Then decided to take pity.

 

“In 1947*, Dr. McConnell's research in parapsychology was accepted by the American Scientific community and published. He based much of his research on the testimonies and eyewitness accounts of such things as second sight, clairvoyance, ESP, telepathy and the like throughout the U.S and Great Britain.

 

“So, you believe me?”

 

“I doubt you would have felt anything if it had been purely superstition, Mr. Kuryakin. And let us just say that it is better to work with an open mind then with blinders on. Then there is the fact of what you just experienced and what we observed. There is also the point that our military counterintelligence has some compelling evidence that the Soviet Union has been interested in the study of parapsychology as well as the occult since before the war.**

 

“ Stalin outlawed such endeavors.***”

 

“True enough, Mr. Kuryakin. But that does not change the fact that a great deal of both parapsychological and occult research, which Germany is known to have been conducting, disappeared after Hitler's suppose suicide. Since both the U.S and Great Britain has disavowed any knowledge of the material and none has surfaced in those two countries, we can only give credence to the idea that it now resides within the Soviet Union.****”

 

“How do you know this was from Vadoma, Peril”

 

“I doubt KGB would be so gentle. This was more...memory, things only Vadoma would know. Illya shook his head.

 

Waverly still could not give up. “But you feel it imperative that you risk going back to Russia. Why is that, do you think?”

 

“As I have said. Vadoma would not do this unless she felt it necessary. I spent a great deal of time among her vans when my family was on holiday at our dacha. She was a very good friend to my family and me.”

 

Illya met Waverly's question with a cold monotone. “ And also, I have not defected. I am still Russian. Still KGB. It is my risk to take.”

 

“And ours, if we decide to accompany you, is it not? We are a team and, although U.N.C.L.E is in it's most infant of stages, we have performed very successfully, As. A. Team. Never forget that, Mr. Kuryakin. So, in saying that, what say you, Mr. Solo? Miss Teller?”

 

Napoleon shrugged. “Seems we have nothing else pressing. Once in a life time opportunity to get a guided tour of the Russian country side. With a native guide, no less.”

 

Gaby nodded. “I would like to meet this woman.”

 

Waverly stood. “Very well. We will make our preparations then. We will need papers. And proper clothing. But this is Istanbul. A place where everything can be had, for a price, of course. We will meet back at my hotel room. Say around 7ish? We can debrief then”

 

The four vacated the rooftop to the sea breeze from the north.

 

 

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

 

 

*Dr. Robert A. McConnell 1947 did put a legitimate face to the study of parapsychology.

 

**V.M. Bekhterer, A.G. Ivanov-Smolensk and B.B. Kazhinsky. Russian parapsychologists who published literature through 1922 to 1937.

 

***Stalin shut down the research after 1937

 

**** It is recorded that Hitler was very much interested in the study of parapsychology and the occult.

 

Notes two through four are covered in the article “How it all started-in Russia.” and is available online.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Dreams are for the Living Affair Chapter lV

Chapter lV

Hope people are still enjoying this little ramble. It's practically writing itself. Comments and feedback welcome and appreciated. What is working, what is not that sort of thing. As always, I own nothing pertaining to The Man From U.N.C.L.E, TV wise or movie.

                                      Mfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumufmfumfumfumfu

              Waverly passed around three of the four dossiers.

           “I believe there will cover us nicely. Miss Teller and I will be traveling as father and daughter. Since artists have a fair modicum of freedom, her ballet training is perfect. Mr. Solo, your interest and expertise in art is well utilized. As for you, Mr. Kuryakin, I think your affiliation with the KGB will work quite well. Better the shadow we know then the one we wouldn't. I will looking to book passage to Odessa. I really don't think that passing through the Sea of Azov would.....”

           “Actually, Sea of Azov would be perfect.”

           At Waverly's questioning look, Illya continued. “It is expedient. There are two sea ports, Berdyans'k and Mariupol. Closer to old dacha and it's property then Odessa or Illichivs'k on Black Sea. It is at dacha that we should begin search for Vadoma and her people.”

          “Hhhmmm yes. But how long has it been since you have had contact with these people?”

            “They travel, yes. But they also.....territorial. Many tribes but not all mingle. If they were not driven away, they will return to the dacha area from time to time.”

             “Alright. Then we have a concrete place to start. Thank you for your insight, Mr. Kuryakin. We will start implementing our covers tomorrow. Any comments, questions?”

             “Starting tomorrow then you go nowhere without me.” With that Illya stood. “I must go shopping now. Clothing stores will not have my size. Will need to find a tailor.”

              Waverly nodded. “Anyone else?”

             Gaby and Solo shook their heads.

            Waverly stood as well. “See you later tomorrow then.”

             Gaby and Napoleon caught up with the Russian as he headed for the elevator.

            “What do you need, Peril? There are some decent shops in the market area.”

             Kuryakin stopped then slowly turned to face Solo and gave the American a pointed look.

             “No. You are not to be seen with us. Maybe we meet on the ship, but it must be as strangers. Gaby may come, if she wishes. She is my charge after all.”

             Gaby touched Napoleon lightly on the arm. “I don't think Illya has forgotten Rome.”

             Solo pulled a sour face in response.

             The would be ballerina tilted her head as she turned her sights onto the tall Russian “Taking this a bit seriously already?”

             He returned the look. “You have best KGB agent. Now you learn what this means. Do you come or stay?”

             “Hhmm true enough that I don't know how to pack for this. And I have to find a dance school. Start practicing again.”

             “Are you ready to go now.?”

             She hummed then nodded.

             In response he ushered her ahead of him towards the elevator.

            “Once on the street you stay away from curb. I walk on your outside. Stay a little bit ahead also. I will have your back. Do not look at me at all. I am now only part of the furniture, the landscape.”

            The next few hours was spent in shopping for the both of them, scouting out a dance studio and found one under the name of Fazil's.* After a couple of hours of walking, with Gaby practicing working with being shadowed, they headed back to the hotel. On the way up to their rooms, she stopped him outside her door.

             “Why this now? Why would I need an escort. I am not even known.”

              “You are now enrolled in well known and prestigious dance school. You, of course, have heard the phrase, prima donna. Ballerinas can be very....let us say....competitive. Even very childish. They have been known to injure those they think better then themselves. Even to the throwing of sulfuric acid.”

              “Don't you make me more conspicuous then?”

            “Nyet, the people are used to seeing us, I no longer stand out. I remain low profile just to make sure you get from here to there safely and back again. Also, this cover only lasts until we reach Mariupol. Then we head out into the country side. We will still need to keep papers for the return trip, or if we meet patrol while there. But hopefully those will be very few. While with Vadoma's people we would want to blend in as they are but we must not lie about who we are. Truth will carry much weight with them. Lies would only cause them to shut us out. All trust would be lost. I do not want that.”

            With that he gave a sharp dip of his head. She couldn't quite swear whether or not she actually heard the click of his heels before he turned smartly and headed for his own room. She dropped her head, sighed, then entered her own door.

IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOI

          The next morning Illya was waiting outside Gaby's door when she got ready to leave for her dance class.

            “Daddy says he has gotten a line on a boat sailing north. But it may not be for a few days yet. Because of the influx of people wishing to visit the USSR**, passage is booked heavily. So it may take several days."

           “Your father is resourceful. Also it means that you will have more opportunity to attend your classes.” “You really do like ballet?” “Without question. I have seen the Bolshoi, many times. My favorite is “The Firebird.” Very classic and popular Russian Fairy tale set to the dance. Very enchanting.”

         **Three Nights Later**

                The four agents were seated in Waverly's suite for a late supper and a briefing.

         “Our reservations have come through. We will be sailing on the Neskuba Vasiliy, leaving this coming Sunday, four days from now. Oh, and this came for you, Miss Teller. Seems you have made quite a splash at Fazil's. This came for you.”

          He held out a small cream colored envelope which Illya intercepted and headed for the balcony with it. A look of consternation crossed Gaby's face as she ticked her head at Waverly then followed after Kuryakin. Hearing her angry heel stomp, he slammed the door shut and held it closed while ripping the laces from one shoe then using it to tie the door handle to the door next to it. Effectively locking the door.

            “What the hell is the Peril....oh.” Solo's face took on a grim look.

             Gaby spun to look at him. “Yes, exactly what does he think he....”

             “He is checking for poison.”

             Gaby's head snapped up to look at Waverly. Seeing his focus on the balcony, she then slowly turned to watch Illya's operation.

             Kuryakin lifted his head to note wind direction and strength. Then he placed the envelope flat on a table standing so that if there was any toxic dust in the envelope, the breeze would carry it away from him. Drawing his dagger he carefully slit a corner open watching carefully for any sign of a powder or residue. When none appeared he used the point of the knife to tip the envelope up. Still nothing. Then he bent to sniff delicately at the missive. Apparently smelling nothing, he carefully worked the embossed card free. Wetting the tip of one finger he swiped at the corner of the card. After waiting a few moments he slid the card back into the envelope. Picking it up, he moved to untie the laces and stepped through holding the note out to Gaby.

           “Is safe.”

 

      IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

 

             *Fazil's is a real school of dance in Istanbul.

 

             ** In the 50's to 1964, the USSR under Khrushchev enjoyed what is called The Thaw when travel was relatively easy and encouraged.


	5. Chapter 5

Dreams Are For the Living Affair  
Chapter V

As always, I own nothing pertaining to The Man From U.N.C.L.E in any way, shape or manner.

Mfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfumfu

Gaby studied the note for a moment, wondering if maybe she should just throw it away.

“You might as well read it, Miss Teller.”

She looked at him, then to Solo who gently nodded. She cast a look toward Illya but he didn't seem to be paying any attention at all. She finally slipped the card free and opened it. After a brief moment she handed it to Waverly.

“I don't have to attend this.”

Waverly read it then handed it off to Solo who cocked an eyebrow.

“I'm impressed. Only four days and you've snagged an invitation to a soiree.”

“I'm. Not. Going.” She looked at Waverly who was looking thoughtful.

“It would be good for cover for you to attend.” She turned on the Russian.

“It has Nothing. To. Do. With. The. Mission.”

“Perhaps no.....perhaps yes. It might be helpful in establishing your credentials as ballerina.”

She rolled her eyes and swung away from him while Waverly turned to study Kuryakin.

“You really believe this would be helpful, Mr. Kuryakin?”

“We will be traveling through USSR. The Ukraine certainly. Maybe into Russia if Vadoma and her people are on the move. All Soviets love ballet. If we are stopped it would not hurt to put on small performance. The better to verify and entertainment can be more effective then bribe.”

“Mmmm...yes, I see. Miss Teller, perhaps you and I should go shopping, since both you and your father are both invited. I'll RSVP.”

Gaby's body went ridged with anger as she turned to give Illya a death stare, which he returned with a glacial blue laser glare of his own. Growling deep in her throat she stalked off into her bedroom to get ready while Illya just turned leaned back against the back of the sofa, crossed his arms and settled in to wait. 

Solo set down on the sofa across the coffee table from the Russian. 

“You really are good as this, aren't you.”

Illya tilted his head as he gave the American a flat look. “And here you say you read my dossier. Or do you only remember 'sad' parts?”

Solo had the good grace to drop his head slightly while still looking at his team mate. 

“Touche.”

“Touche.....what does this mean?”

“It means that you have made a very valid point.”

Illya gave a nod of his head. 

Napoleon leaned back, crossed his legs and casually capped his knee in his hands.

“You know, Peril, I've been thinking.”

That got him a slight eye roll and a slight shake of the head from the Russian.

“Hhmm well. Yes. Yes, I have. I believe I owe you an apology.”

Illya was now looking at him contemplatively. Then there was a quirk of the eyebrows. Hhmmm.....an apology. That signifies just one, your transgressions are many. But, very well. Which one do you wish to apologize for?”

Solo could only mentally keep his metaphorical chin from hitting the floor. Kuryakin was actually sitting there, very relaxed and even being witty? He studied the man across from him. Head slightly tilted, and yes, there was a warmer blueness in the eyes and was that a hint of a smile he saw in one corner of the mouth? He heaved an inward sigh. This was something so rare and he knew it would be lost in the next few minutes and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. It needed to be said. 

“That day, at the cafe. Our first briefing on the Vinciquerras.”

Solo watched with regret as the walls went up the Russian looking away, the lips pressing. Then Illya gave a shake of his head.

“Is alright, Cowboy. I insulted you first.”

“That's the rub, you see. You insulted me but I didn't insult you. Oh, no. I went for the jugular. I attacked....”

Illya was standing a striding away before stopping dead still. “Do not....just.....do not.” 

There was a slight shift in the shoulders, the blond head tilted up, then he slowly turned to face  
the man still sitting.

“I offer proposal. I accept apology and we never speak of this again.”

“I truly am sorry, Illya.”

“We hated each other. Had tried to kill each other. We were lashing out. Trying to hurt. You had more ammunition. “Kuryakin shrugged with a slight tightness around the eyes but then it relaxed. “But, we have fought side by side, comrades in arms, as brothers. Have saved each other. I accept your apology.”

Napoleon stood, straightened his jacket then approached the other man and offered his hand. Kuryakin accepted the offer and they shook hands on it.

IOIOIOIOIO

Waverly and Kuryakin sat on the sofa as they waited for Gaby to make her appearance when the phone rang. Waverly answered to receive the message that the school was sending a car to pick them up. Waverly instructed that he be called when the car arrived, thanked the desk and hung up. 

“Well. It seems Miss Teller has caught someones attention. Interesting, wouldn't you say?”

Illya just hummed softly as one eyebrow arched. 

“What is interesting?”

Two heads turned to look at the petite speaker and Illya slowly stood. Gaby was resplendent in mid-calf length gown of layered midnight blue chiffon shot through with silver embroidery and silver beading along the hems. The gown was topped by a waist length jacket also with the beading. Her slippers were silver with blue beading. Her assemble as finished off with small chandelier diamond earrings with matching necklace and bracelet. 

“We are being chauffeured.”

She started to cut a look towards Illya. 

“Oh no. Not Mr. Kuryakin. The dance studio is sending a car.”

“Is this normal?”

“It is a quandary.”

“Not to worry. The car will be checked.”

When the car arrived the three made their way down to the lobby. A man dressed in a black uniform and driver's cap stepped forward and bowed. 

“Greetings. My name is Ersin and I will be your driver for this evening. Please to follow me?”  
“Nyet. Mr and Miss Engels shall stay here until I instruct them to follow. You and I shall proceed to car. Lead the way, please.”

The man looked up at Illya, then his head swiveled to take in his to intended passengers then back up at Illya, then he turned on his heels and walked out of the hotel with Kuryakin dogging his footsteps. Waverly and Gaby moved so that they could watch the proceedings from within the hotel's foyer. 

Once the two men reached the limo the driver was frisked then he was motioned to open the driver side door. Once that was accomplished, the driver moved to stand on the far side of the car. Illya climbed behind the wheel and seemed to be searching. He dropped the sun visor, then flipped it back up then reached across and opened the glove box. Once he was satisfied, he got and motioned the driver to take his seat in the car. The Russian then moved to stand in front of the car and tapped lightly on the hood. On it's release, Illya ran his fingers lightly under the lip. Pulling a slender flashlight from a pocket he knelt and shone it slowly along the the gap and then inspected the grill. Only then did he finger the latch that would free the hood completely. All the while running the narrow, bright beam slowly under the hood into the engine compartment. After a few moments, he lifted the hood, braced it in place and started inspecting the wiring, poking and prodding carefully. 

On letting the hood drop into place, he then lowered himself and actually pushed himself under the car on all four sides and gently inspected the gas tank cover and cap. The he walked to the driver's side window and tapped. The window rolled down almost immediately.

“Open the trunk, please.”

This too was inspected minutely. Illya then moved to the passenger side and motioned for Waveryly and Gaby to approach and Illya opened the door closest to the hotel. When Waverly moved to round the car, he was stopped with a shake of the blond head. 

“You both enter from the sidewalk side. Lock your door once you are in, Mr. Ingels. You, Miss Engels, also lock door.”

Waverly glanced at him as he ducked to enter the back seat. 

“Will you do this every time.”

“Da. Without fail.”

Once everyone was settled in, Illya took up shotgun and gave Ersin a side long glance and a flick of his wrist.

“Now you may drive.”


	6. Chapter Vl

Chapter Vl

I want to thank all of you who are reading, commenting, following and generally liking this WIP. As usual I own nothing pertaining to the Man From U.N.C.L.E in any manner, shape or form.

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When they reached the venue, Gaby was relieved to find that limos seemed to be the transportation of choice for the attendees. The long black cars where queued up along a circular drive in front of a colonnaded portico. Men in tuxedos and women bedecked in gowns of all colors with gems to match were making their way up a set of marble steps to enter a building two stories high with wings running to both sides of the portico. 

Their chauffeur started to open his door when his shotgun shook his head and a finger at him. 

“You may unlock door now, Miss Engels, and exit but stay close by me.”

Illya exited and smoothing a hand down over his cinched trench coat*, casually canvased the area before opening the door for her. When her “father” appeared he offered his arm to his beautiful “daughter” and the three made their way up to join the party.

They were greeted inside by a man and a woman, the man stepping forward.

“Gabriella! Oh, my dear. I am so glad you have come.” The man looked at Waverly and held out his hand in greeting.

“You must be her father?”

“Yes.” Waverly shook the offered hand. “Thank you so much for the interest you have shown in my daughter.”

“Oh, but sir. It is our pleasure. She is so talented, as many of our students are, of course. There are some people here we would like you to meet. If you will step this way, please?”

As the three moved off, Illya stepped to follow only to be met with a slight gasp from the woman. Then she gave him a cordial smile.

“I'm sorry....do you have an invitation?'

“Oh, I am sorry. This man is with us.” Waverly answered.

The woman looked the tall blond up and down taking in the suit and the black trench coat then her eyes went wide and her hands flew up to cover her mouth.

“Oh. My. God....” She turned to Waverly.

“Gabriella has been invited to tour the USSR.” She turned a thousand watt smile on Illya. “You are her Soviet body guard, are you not? Geraldo is gong to be livid with envy. Oh, it happens, but he has never been graced with such an invitation.” She laughed joyfully.

“Come, come. We must intercept him.” She twined an arm with Waverly's and started following in Gaby and her escort's footsteps. 

“He was going to be asking your Gaby to join our troop on a permanent bases. With your permission, of course, Mr. Ingels.” She offered her hand free hand. “My name is Maria. Forgive me for not introducing myself properly.”

Illya fell in a step behind shaking his head. “Such children.” He breathed almost silently with a roll of his eyes. 

They caught up with Gaby and her escort as she was being introduced to a group of three men and two women. Maria let go of Waverly's arm and simply walked up to Gaby and pulled her into a hug.

“Oh darling, why didn't you say something. Touring the USSR!. How wonderful for you.”

The man known as Geraldo blinked owlishly. “You...what....” 

Then he turned slowly and gazed at Gaby. “You?....”

Then he caught sight of the tall, trenched coat figure behind her and seemed to deflate. “Oh. You have....haven't you.”

Geraldo turned back to his five guests. “Well, that does tear that, does it not? Miss Ingels will not be available after all.”

He shot Gaby a tight smile. “Congratulations. Perhaps if you return this way we can talk again.” He turned away. 

Gaby shook her head and led her “father” towards another group. “These are friends of mine. I want you to meet them.”

They worked the room as Gaby said good-bye to a few people that she truly had gained a respect for in the school. But even she grew weary of the need to keep up the charade. She laid a hand on Waverly's arm and he gave a nod to Kuryakin and they made their way back to the entrance. Illya signaled that they stay put and made his way down to the queue of cars. 

To his surprise their car slid into a parking spot. The driver killed the engine then to Illya's surprise and bemusement, exited the vehicle to stand away hands over his head. Illya cast a quick glance towards the portico where he knew Waverly and Gaby were watching then smartly marched up to the driver and the security search repeated itself. Right down to the search of the under carriage, gas tank and truck. As the Russian neared the driver, the man turned to give him a smart bow and slid back behind the steering wheel. 

With a shake of his head, Illya moved to the passenger side of the car and waved to his charges to advance. Once every one was settled in the driver gave a regal nod of his head to the man riding shot-gun and they were off.


End file.
